Leaving Hurts
by FandomsAllAround
Summary: AU. John Watson has just graduated Uni when he meets Sherlock Holmes. No one expected them to become friends, escpecially since John is leaving in a few weeks. Even the great Sherlock misses certain things, so how will he react after John leaves? Warning: Abandonment, abuse mentioned (RATING MAY CHANGE)
1. A Friendship Starts

** Hello new Fandom. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Sarah, and recently I have fallen hard for this series. Stupid, Stupid me. Anyway, this might not be very good but hey, I like the idea of it. JohnLock is so incredible beautiful. NOT THE POINT (yet) IGNORE MY BABBLING, ONTO THE STORY. **

**P.S. To those of you that plan on reading ANY multi-chapter fic I have, be warned that unless I get hooked, it will be slow, but this is Sherlock. Which I have rewatched 15 times in three weeks so, OPTIMISM. Also, I'm American. Meaning I have no idea what the rules of rugby are in the slightest. Hence, I shall be being extremely vague and probably often false. If one of you happens to know even the basics of the game and feel like helping a dim-wit out, leave it in the review or PM me. THANKS ^.^ **

**P.P.S. I OBVIOUSLY do not own Sherlock; all rights go to BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and everyone else who has made brilliant Sherlock things.**

* * *

He thanked the cabbie and passed over the money before climbing out in his rugby gear. It felt funny to have on all the gear again; he hadn't played rugby with his university team since, well university. He only graduated a few months ago, but he was leaving for the military next month, so they had planned to meet up and play one last game together.

"John!" A chorus of deep male voices shouted as John Watson's team mates bound over, all but tackling him as they shouted multiple things at once, making them incomprehensible.

"Hey guys!" John laughed at all his mates, "So are we gonna play or what?" he grinned.

Within five minutes, they had raced to where they were going to play and split themselves into teams. They had settled to go to a park that was the closest to being in the middle of all of their flats/houses and had a space big enough to play rugby. Since everyone beat him there, John was surprised to see that everything was already in place, so getting ready wasn't all that hard. They weren't playing for teams or really following every rule, they were playing how freshman high schoolers would play if they had never played before. Breaking rules, laughing, making fun of each other, and just having a good time trying to beat each other at the game they'd played for years. John couldn't imagine a better way to spend his time before going to service.

About half-way through the game, John had hardly broken a sweat. He always had a lot of fun being with his team. Most of his friends had swapped out and were taking breaks to calm down, but he still felt he could play until the sun set. For some reason he took notice of a tall boy, about his age, sitting in a bench off to the side. He'd been there the entire time, originally though, he was reading. Now the boy had set his book aside and was looking at John intently, almost curiously, but not quite. He had some sort of feeling about him, some aura or something that made him seem dark and mysterious. A long dark coat and deep blue scarf just helped play into this aura. The mop of dark curls on his head seemed to bounce to life excitedly even if the boy had yet to move, seeming to argue with the boy's demeanor. Suddenly John met the boy's eyes, they shined a shocking blue and for some reason John could not pull his eyes away. He didn't know how long he had been staring when a ball hit him in the head, knocking him out of his daze.

"Oi! John! Come back to Earth!" Greg laughed at him from across the field.

He shook his head and grinned, "Sorry! Was just thinking."

"Really now? Because it looked more like you were checking someone out," Someone said from behind him. John audibly groaned.

"What do you want Sally? We're playing a game here," He said obviously annoyed with the girl.

She shrugged, "I live across the street if you remember, was just on a walk and I realized you were looking at the freak over there. I'd stay away from him if I were you," she warned quietly before beginning to walk away, but John was intrigued.

"Daniel! Take my spot for a minute?" John shouted at the row of guys sitting off to the side before running after Sally. The boys all shrugged and continued to play, knowing John would be back soon, he could only handle so much of Sally before getting pissed. "What do you mean freak? And why shouldn't I talk to him?" John questioned, sounding defensive. His own voice confused him; he didn't even know the guy's name, why was he so offended for someone he knew so little about?

She sighed, "Your loyalty is getting to an extreme point here John, and you don't even know his name."

"Answer the question."

"He's a freak. He knows a bunch of things he shouldn't and is a bloody psychopath! You may dislike me, but you're already leaving Molly to go to Afghanistan, what would she do if you got yourself in jail or even killed because of some stranger and your idiocy?"

"Molly is just my friend and you know that, plus I'm fairly certain I'm smart enough to not get myself killed."

She scoffed in reply, "No one can escape a psychopath, and he might even kill Sarah."

He winced and resisted slapping her, his mother still raised a gentleman, so instead, he just glared and clenched his fists. His clamped shut to be sure he didn't call her a 'bitch', 'whore', or whatever else came to mind. So he decided in spur the moment to do the only thing he could think of to piss her off, which was to march over to the bench where the odd boy was sitting and sit down next to him. John was still fuming when the boy finally looked at him with a blank expression. John noticed it looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

"If you don't want me sitting here I can move," He said almost hesitantly. The boy shook his head silently. "Well then whatever it is that you want to say, say it."

His eyebrows flicked up for a moment, but his face went back to being blank so quickly that John thought he must've imagined it. "You're John Watson. You play rugby but you don't do it for any reason, simply because you like, which is odd for someone of your standing. You're moving soon, I'd guess in 3 or 4 weeks, so this will likely be the last time you get to play with your old university team. You have an overprotective mother that you moved back in with after university because you've known you would be moving far away a few months after you graduated, so why waste the money. You're probably moving to extremely far away considering you're mother has been so attached, so you're probably also going with a friend. You also have an older sister who's hiding multiple secrets from your mother; most likely she's lesbian and an alcoholic. She's also been worried about your move for some reason so the friend you're moving with probably is new and hardly acquainted with your family. Your father has been absent since you were 8 and since then you've been the man of the house. You're also worried about the move so maybe you're having second thoughts. You aren't friends with Donovan but you are with Lestrade and I'm guessing somewhat with Anderson, or not since you just flinched, so just Lestrade. You're very loyal and sacrifice being with people you dislike just to please other people."

His mouth dropped with an audible pop, "How- What- I- That was bloody brilliant!" The shocked expression on John's face broke into a grin. The boy looked shocked for a minute there, and John knew he didn't imagine it, "What?"

"It's just… people don't tend to react like that, especially people like you," The boy slowly regained his composure.

"What do they normally do?"

"A few things, there's the classic punch to the face, the crying girl, and of course, simply tell me to piss off."

John couldn't help but chuckle, "So how did you figure all that out anyway?"

The boy's lip twitched up slightly in the corner, and so he began his explanation, "Well your name was fairly easy, considering your uniform says Watson and everyone has been very loudly calling you John. Then I knew you play just for the love of playing because you cared very little about the rules of the game, where some others quickly got annoyed at the child-like play. You must be moving because all of your team was very enthusiastic to see you, as if they might not see you again. Then the mother. Before you started playing, you pulled out your phone and set the volume as loud as it would allow, inferring you wanted to avoid missing a call. Considering that if you had any sort of serious girlfriend, you would have some gift from her, which you don't, and any other person that needed to contact you wasn't that important if they weren't already here, so, mother. She's obviously been more attached then normal recently seeing as there's still a slight lipstick stain on your cheek, and we've previously established that you're unattached so it was obviously your mother. Your sister has also been worried since you smell of cologne, not strong enough to be too noticeable but enough that it rubbed off of her onto you when she hugged you. You might also wear some sort of cologne but considering you were coming here to play a sport and spend time with guys, I highly doubt that was on your list of things to do. She is obviously lesbian if she is wearing male cologne, I know it's not a brother because you have two different types of long hair on your shoulders from both her and your mother. She's obviously an alcoholic considering I can also smell vodka on you, but it's just as faint as the cologne and I once again doubt you'd drink before coming to play rugby. You hold yourself to a high stature as if you've been in the military, but you obviously haven't so you grew up without another man figure to lead you. You're second guessing the move because you obviously don't want to leave your friends. You obviously aren't friends with Donovan based on that groan you made when she walked over."

John's mouth had been hanging open for a while, and the boy smirked at his face, "I'm not second guessing it…"

"Sure you aren't," the boy rolled his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Sherlock Holmes"

The two young men continued to talk for a while, eventually swapping phone numbers in case they decided they wanted to converse or something of the sort. Once the day was over, Sherlock ended up taking the same cab as John but got out before him, meaning John was left to pay; which he honestly didn't mind much.

* * *

A few days later, on a Sunday, John woke up before anyone else on his whole block and, after he got dressed, left for a walk. Within ten minutes he arrived exactly where he had planned, a small family run coffee shop linked to a petite little book store. People often came in and out of the coffee shop hurriedly throughout the day, so John had found the one time he could go without many others. He didn't quite understand why it was open at 3:00 in the morning, but it was his own little sanctuary. Leisurely, he ordered his usual drink (fresh, hot, green tea) and picked out a book. John then strolled to a small table meant for two in the corner of his shop and pulled his laptop out from his bag.

As his laptop loaded, he sipped his tea and thought for a bit. In about three weeks, he would be leaving. The thought of never returning really didn't come to his mind, though other things made him feel very conflicted. He was nervous and scared that he would get there and someone would need him, and he would forget everything he'd ever learned. Lives would be in his hands, and he could hardly imagine how he would feel if his companions death was because of his idiotic mistake. At the same time however, he was excited and looking forward to the adventure. He would be able to save and protect people while making his mind and body move as quickly as possible. He grinned to himself. That was when he remembered one of the main psychological problems when it comes to leaving. Everyone he loved would still be here, and he wouldn't be able to see them for at least a year depending on his duty. His mother, Harry, Molly, Sarah, Mike, Greg, all his teammates, and his newly made mate, Sherlock.

John took another sip and started the scans on his laptop before continuing his thoughts. Sherlock Holmes. Now that was an interesting topic. They had met four days ago at a local park by chance, and though they had exchanged a few texts, they otherwise haven't spoken since. Sherlock was John's favorite thing to ponder as of late. He was so incredibly brilliant from what John could tell, but he seemed to not acknowledge his 'deductions', as he called them on his website, as something that regular people should be awed by. Other than that, John knew very little of the young man. He only knew the following: His name was Sherlock Holmes, he was two years younger than John (making him about 24), he was brilliant, arrogant, interesting, and had very few friends.

Once again his thoughts were paused as John plugged his headphones into the laptop and clicked play on his music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the music surround him. Music had always been something he enjoyed while thinking, and boy did he have a lot to think about. But, for some reason, as he closed his eyes and relaxed, alone in the coffee shop/library, he could only think about one thing…

Suddenly the chair across from him moved as someone sat down.

John mumbled, not opening his eyes, "I know this place is empty. Do you mind?"

"Oh not at all, feel free to stay at my table," the voice was deep baritone and very fast, as if the owner of it was thinking so fast he could hardly get out the words before a new thought came. But it was also very familiar.

"Sherlock?" John opened one eye and plucked out an ear bud, "What are you doing here? You've never been in here before."

He scoffed, "Yes I have, I come here every morning, but on Sunday's there's always a strange male with tea and headphones sitting at my table, and I have been urged to be polite to him, so I am."

"This isn't your table," John mumbled, pulling out the other ear bud and sitting up, eyes fully open now.

"Yes it is. Look underneath it."

John leaned over reluctantly and saw what Sherlock was talking about, "You carved your name into the bloody table?!"

"Is that a problem?"

John began to laugh as he shook his head no, after a few seconds, Sherlock laughed with him. They sat like that for a while, John eventually picking up his book and reading, his laptop now shut down, Sherlock reading some amazing complex titled book. By about 4:30 AM, Sherlock finally spoke.

"So you're leaving in three weeks then?" He said.

"Oh… uh, y-yeah…" He stumbled over the words as he had stopped actually reading the book long ago, thinking about his leave. Did Sherlock know the real reason John was leaving?

"I can't imagine what about this move could make someone so uneasy; considering you talk to someone you met just a few days ago so calmly."

"W-Well…"

"So that leads me to believe you're moving in with someone you haven't met yet?"

"Yes." It wasn't technically a lie; none of his mates would join him in the military.

"Ah, well, how do you feel about helping me with an experiment?"

"What?"

"An experiment, nothing involving you, but you have a better understanding of sports than I."

"What _kind_ of experiment?"

"Simple thing really. I gave something to Anderson and he is watching some big game today, and I would like to note what reactions are odd for him, but I'm not sure what those would entail."

"O-Oh, wait, you know Anderson?"

"Yes. Had we not established this? He and Donovan have a private relationship, though she also shows an odd interest in you though apparently you have a girlfri-"

John cut him off slightly annoyed, "No. I. Do. _Not._"

"Hooper?" He tilted his head for half a second, confused at his false deduction apparently.

"Molly has lived next door to me since we were kids; she is my _sister_ if nothing else. For God's sake, Sally needs to get her facts straight," John half growled, the constant comments always managing to piss him off.

"And Sarah?" Sherlock didn't seem to notice when John winced.

"She left me a few weeks ago…"

"Ah, none the less, yes I know Anderson, though we are nothing more than in knowledge of each other's existence."

"So, what is he like your enemy or something?" John was very thankful for the topic change.

"No, his IQ lowers that of anyone within a fifty foot radius, he does not qualify to be an enemy of mine. I am just annoyingly aware of his existence."

John couldn't help but laugh slightly, "Well, whatever it is, if Anderson's going to make a fool of himself while watching 'some game', I'm in."

Sherlock gave a small grin, "Good."

For some odd reason, they spent the rest of the day together. Simply reading, walking around, and talking. AT around five in the afternoon, they headed out to do the experiment on Anderson. By the end of that day, John and Sherlock had somehow become best friends, though neither would admit that. Not yet anyway.

* * *

**OKAYS! What did you all think? I'll be continuing this fairly quickly, as I have lots of ideas and SHTUFF! Please review and whatever because it makes me happy and lets me know if I'm disgracing anything, I really do NOT want to insult Sherlock, John, Rugby, Britain, BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, or anyone for that matter (except Irene, because I dislike her very much… sorrynotsorry) so thank you for reading. Stay tuned! **


	2. Meeting Molly and Mary

**Alright so I had finals all week but I'm off now for two weeks so enjoy the updates you lucky little peoples. Literally, 8 hours after I posted the first chapter, I had three reviews! That may seem small and mundane, but it is fairly amazing to me. Also, Mary will be in this chapter, even though I know nothing about her character. Hence, I shall be making a majority of it up, a bit coming from previous internet knowledge, but not much. xD This chapter is a bit short, sorry about that.**

**Update: I DON'T EVER WRITE IN THIRD PERSON. I'M SORRY. I TRIED. I CAN'T. CHANGING TO FIRST PERSON. ALRIGHT? GOOD. BECAUSE YOU DON'T GET A CHOICE. Remember I love you.**

_** Sherlock POV**_

John was an odd person. He was one of the few people that was able to shock me, but I had hoped that would stop now that we had spent a bit of time together. Oh how wrong that assumption was. One major thing about him that I have yet to fully figure out is where and why he was moving. It seemed horrifyingly obvious at first, but as John continually provided me with more information, my guesses were proven false. For some reason John now had the odd idea that it was alright to take me to meet his friends. Well, more like one of his friends.

_So maybe he isn't moving at all, but is going to- no. Must be leaving to friends. Old friend? Not at all. New friend? No. Soon to be friend? Likely. Odd? Assumed only to me. Need more information. _I thought to myself as we climbed into the cab he called over.

"Why does this Molly want to meet me anyway?" I found it an incredible waste of time seeing as I could be working on an experiment.

"She thinks you sound interesting… or something like that…" He mumbled the last part.

_Yeah sure, more like you showed her a picture of me and she was curious._

Far too soon, we arrived wherever it was they had decided to meet. John stepped out of the car and walked to the two women after paying the cabbie off leaving me to sit and ponder how to best escape this situation.

"John!" She hugged him. "This is Mary," the girl smiled. "Mary, this is John."

I slowly exited the car as the cabbie continued to glare at me and began to deduce the two women in front of John. One of which must have been the Molly John had told me about. She had average length hair pulled back in a low ponytail, simple really. She was just a quiet, simple girl. Apparently though she was studying for a degree in biology and was obviously fairly awkward socially. Not to mention she had cats. Molly had been friends with John for a long time but of course John had told me that so this wasn't surprising.

_Boring._

Then there was the 'Mary' one. She was small, dainty, obviously from a rich sort of family, probably going to inherit some sort of fortune. She had a fairly normal look about her, blonde hair, blue eyes. There was not really anything else I saw of extreme interest, at least, nothing I could bring up without John punching me. She didn't even seem to be studying anything of interest at all.

_Extremely boring._

"Nice to meet you John," Mary smiled, shaking John's hand then looking at me. "You must be Sherlock."

I nodded curtly, John elbowed me in response, I sighed, "Yes, and you must be Mary Morstan."

"How-" Mary began.

"Don't ask how, just, don't. Trust me," John looked at Molly as I smirked, "Molly this is Sherlock, Sherlock this is my friend Molly Hooper."

"I know." I replied annoyed at this stupidity.

"H-Hi…" Molly waved slighted and grinned, Mary smiling brightly next to her.

_Can I leave now? Is this it? Well this was boring. Waste of time. I wonder if those tests are ready yet. Mycroft will be checking up on me soon. Mrs. Hudson is making chicken, how can I get some tonight? Just ask? No, that's boring. How about-_

"-Sherlock?" Mary smiled at me as John nudged my hand with his to get my attention. I hadn't been paying any.

"What?" _Please tell me they aren't asking to go out. Isn't this enough?_

She giggled, "Wow his attention span really is short. I was just wondering if you would like to come to lunch with Molly and I? John agreed to join us."

I looked at John with a look of _Do I have to?_ To which he nodded, so I reluctantly looked at Mary and nodded in a seemingly pleasant fashion. We called a cab and squeezed in. I began to realize that Molly would normally talk more than this, and that I was sitting between her and the door. John and Mary were engaging in intense small talk and Molly was failing at creating any sort of interesting topic. Though, John and Mary were also just talking about the weather and their favourite sports teams.

_They did not. John would not set me up on a date. He didn't know. She set up for Mary to come and be his date. They think this is a double date. John's leaving soon. Two and half weeks. Why get him a girlfriend now? He probably didn't even want a girlfriend yet. Sentiment. Never will it make sense. Wait. Possible new roommate for John? Not impossible. Information needed._

By the time we had gotten to Angelo's, I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. John and Mary seemed to be having a good time, but Molly just sat there. Continually trying to find topics and failing miserably. I could've helped, but why should I? I had no interest in any sort of small talk, let alone anything else.

We took a seat but because Angelo was not working there today, our service was slow. It was fairly annoying that he wasn't there, as normally he treats me with some extra care to pay me back for a favor I did him a while back. I'd never admit it, but I enjoyed the pleasant attitude he gave. We received our drinks, me only having water, everyone else having tea, before that small chatter started up again. One thing that I took notice of was how close Mary and John were sitting. Not as if John had a choice, he was on the inside of the booth and Mary had scooted closer, keeping one of her hands between her thigh and his. I had to refrain from laughing as he finally realized that this was meant to be date. The expression on his face from the epiphany came as he looked at her hand then back at her face while she talked.

_So he really didn't know. Ha! This ought to be interesting._

"S-So," John tripped over the word, scooting into the inch of space that was left between him and the wall, uncomfortable. _Good. _"How've you been Molly? Finish Uni yet?"

She suddenly looked up from her lap, grinning, "Fantastic really, I'll be getting my degree in a few weeks, then I can start."

_Awkward fades slightly when on topic of something she is proud of._

"That's great!" He smiled at her. "Still planning on St. Bart's?"

_Of course._

"Yeah," Molly still had a grin on her face when she looked at me, "What about you Sherlock? Have you figured out what your job will be yet? Or do you already have one?"

I stated simply, "Consulting Detective."

"Wow, aren't you a bit young?" Mary piped in, looking at me doubtingly. I don't like her.

I chose not to answer, but John complained, "Sherlock."

I groaned to show my annoyance, "I'm not 'a bit young' I'm just a young consulting detective. Before you say anything, no, that does not make me less adequate for the job."

There was a silence as I took a sip of my water, soon enough however, Molly broke it. "So you're leaving soon, right John?" _Information coming._

"Oh, yeah, seventeen more days and I'm off," he replied with a sad sort of smile. She nodded, understanding that wasn't a topic he preferred.

_Still sad about leaving. Counting the days. Why? Where? Information yet to be obtained still._

They continued the small talk throughout the night. I hadn't touched my plate, but I decided to pay. Well, technically I was billing Mycroft, but still. It was when we started going our separate ways, the girls calling a cab, that Mary decided to give John her number. He took it, but it was obvious he didn't want it. They left fairly quickly and John and I began to walk towards our neighborhood. I had learned that we only live two blocks apart.

"Why'd you take it?" I really didn't get the point of taking something you didn't want.

He looked up at me, confused, "What?"

I sighed, "Mary's number. You took her phone number but you didn't want it. What's the point? You are moving soon anyway. She knows that."

"It's called being polite, Sherlock. Molly was just trying to help me get over somebody."

"What?" I was honestly confused. He needed to stop doing that.

He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes as we kept walking, "Sarah."

_Oh. Sentiment. He's walked this path often. In both senses. Emotions. They so often get in the way. Explain John. _

"What about Sarah?" I nudged him on, my voice dripping with annoyance as he wouldn't open his eyes.

"She broke up with me when I told her I was leaving," he smacked his hands to his face suddenly, dragging them down before grinning at me, "It's alright though, I know you don't care."

I gave him a curious look. _Why would he think that?_ But I dropped the topic, not feeling like confronting the sappy emotions. We continued to walk, not talking much but two people did pass us at one point. I found their backgrounds amusing, so I decided to tell John. The reply was him smacking my arm telling me to let people have their privacy, then laughing as he thought more about it. He walked into his house laughing and waved at me before closed the door behind him. I continued to my flat before suddenly I realized something.

I couldn't help but grin for a second. _I actually have a friend. _

**I was unable to resist making Sherlock have a bit of feelings, you'll see why though. He's not THE Sherlock Holmes we know (yet). YOU'LL SEE I'M EXCITED. Anyway, tiny thing, on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day I'm going to have either another chapter of this or a one-shot that has been poking at my brain. I promise one of them will happen, but I'm not sure which. **

**I ramble in these a lot, sorry about that. Anyway, constructive criticism is amazing and reviews are my FAVOURITE THINGS. THANK YOU ALL. **

**Now, here is where I reply to reviews:**

**-Skye City- I'm just overly aware of how American I am, which makes me nervous about doing fanfictions centered in other countries. And thank you so much for your opinion I can't even tell you how much better your review makes me feel! I don't **_**believe**_** I'll need any other things on rugby for later chapters, but I might, so thank you Also, that is the plan ^.^ THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEW! :D**

** -Guest- THANK YOU RANDOM ANONYMOUS PERSON! :D**

** -xSommerRegen- I'm glad you enjoyed! And as you can see, I'm on it ^.^**


	3. John's Past

**Haha… ha… Yeah Christmasy stuff got in the way and I got really sucked into Pokemon Y… sorry, but it's up now! Wooh! Did anyone watch the Doctor Who Christmas Special? I hope Capaldi gets used to his kidneys soon xD Also, I'm a fan of references. You'll see what I mean, but some of them are fairly hidden, blink and you'll miss some of them. Anyway, ON TO THE STORY.**

**Quick Trigger Warning: Abuse mentioned. Yeah, sorry, forgot I had decided to do that.**

**_John's POV_**

You know when you just start doing things without ever making a conscious decision about doing it? Like walking around and getting something to eat and then realizing 'wait when did I come here?' I was doing a lot of that lately. Subconsciously living. The closer the day of my departure came, the less people talked to me, so there was really nothing to do. I don't blame them of course; I was going to the military for God's sake. They're probably just trying to distance themselves from me, after all, who knew if I was coming back or not?

So I walked around subconsciously, eating, watching TV, scrolling through Tumblr, anything to waste some time. That is, until Sherlock came over. My sister moved out the other day so it was only my mum and me, and she was crying so often I tried to avoid her. Whenever Sherlock came, he would always have something to do. Whether it was just me helping him on an experiment, or actually taking me on a case.

He only had a few since he was so young, but the Detective Inspector seemed to believe the new Consulting Detective's opinion. He had only taken me on two, saying he just needed someone to talk to. Apparently he thought better out loud, there was too much going on in his head to focus on just one thing. Well, I'm guessing on that last part.

Today was different though. My mum was going out with some friends for shopping and tea in a few minutes, and then she wouldn't be back for another four hours or so. Sherlock walked into my house and sat on my couch, well more like sprawled out on my couch. I knew he had picked the lock on my door but I didn't care too much about that at the moment.

"Sherlock?" He put his hands together and put them under his chin. "Sherlock?!" I walked over to him and poked his face as I spoke louder. "Sherlock!"

He suddenly sat up, "What?!"

"You do realize my mum is home and she probably won't like coming into her front room to see a random guy on her couch," I crossed my arms and smirked.

"Quite right Johnny, now, who is this?" My mum smiled warmly at Sherlock as she walked into the room. Always right on time, I chuckled to myself before I realized she once again used her nickname for me. I sighed.

Sherlock stood and smiled the polite, but ever so fake, smile he sometimes used to get what he wanted, "Sorry to intrude ma'am, I'm Sherlock Holmes. You must be John's mother, pleased to meet you." They shook hands.

"It's no problem at all Sherlock! And stop with the formalities!" She smiled. "My name's Lucelia, feel free to call me Lucy."

He nodded and grinned, "Thank you, Lucy."

"Anyway sweetie, what brings you here?" My mum continued to give him her overly kind smile, and I hoped Sherlock knew that she called everyone 'sweetie'.

"Nothing much," He grinned, it was weird seeing him smile that way, "Just wanted to know if John recorded the last episode of Doctor Who, I missed it."

I caught on to what he was doing and decided to just go along with it, "Oh yeah, I haven't watched it yet." Either way I really did record it and I hadn't had time to watch it, but for some reason I doubted Sherlock had any interest in watching it with me.

Suddenly there was a honking from outside. "Sorry boys, my ride's here. Have fun with your show, there's leftovers in the fridge," She hugged me and kissed my temple. "Be good Johnny, Sherlock, stay as long as you want, bye!" She smiled and waved before closing the door behind her.

I turned to Sherlock, "Okay, now why are you really here? And what were you doing?"

"You have lipstick on your temple," He smirked as I glanced at my reflection in the TV. There was a kiss mark on the left side of my face and I could tell some of it was in my hair and based on her lipstick of choice, it was probably an overly bright pink.

I grumbled incoherent words as I went to the bathroom to wash it off, when I came back, Sherlock was in the same position he was originally in.

"Sherlock," I shoved him slightly and he glared at me. I gave him an expectant look.

"Mycroft wouldn't shut up and I needed silence to think." He answered in a bored voice.

"Mycroft? And that made you decide to come to my house?"

"Brother and yes."

"Brother?! You have a- oh never mind, if it's important I'll figure it out. What's going on that you need to think about so badly? Got a case?"

"Nothing, sh," He attempted to go back to his previous position but I quickly sat on the couch, halting him.

"Explain. Now. Or get out."

He groaned and kicked his feet like a child before giving in and responding, "My father left and Mycroft has requested I help him in the search."

_That seems like a topic close to home, I better not push my luck._

I raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to give me any other information?"

"Unlikely."

"Want some tea?"

"Sure. Now move."

I sighed, but ultimately decided to get up and make the tea I offered. Honestly, I was surprised he even agreed to it. As soon as I stood up he returned to his position and I shook my head with a smile on my face. At least he agreed to the tea, most of the time I have to practically force him to take any sort of food or drink. I wonder how his family does it. I kind of wonder what he was like as a kid.

Speaking of Sherlock's family, why didn't he ever tell me he had a brother? Or even a family that was still around and with him? A struggling family as it seems, but still. I apparently know a lot less about him then he led me to believe. Still, if I knew one thing about Sherlock, it's that he doesn't quite miss things like that, so I don't get how he would miss his father wanting to leave. But his dad could be just as good at lying and hiding as he is, I mean he has to get it from somewhere. I wonder if his brother is just as brilliant? Is his whole family like that? I wouldn't know since he hasn't introduced me.

I guess that makes sense though, I'm probably just a side experiment. I chuckled at the likelihood of that. I was leaving in a few days, befriending me to anyone new would be fairly pointless. I looked down at the now made tea. There it was again. The subconscious living. I set one cup of tea on the table next to Sherlock and poked his shoulder. I knew he would at least glance over and understand. Then I just went out to my backyard.

Closing the door behind me I breathed in the chilled air. The steam from my tea became more profound as the air around it was so much colder than it was inside. Slowly I walked over to the swing we had under a tree and sat down. Harry and I had set it up as kids so it was fairly old, but it was still pretty sturdy. I swung slightly and sipped my tea as the autumn wind swept leaves around me. Soon was coming the day that I would no longer be able to come out here and just sit. I'd have proper things to do.

At some point I finished my tea and moved to lie under the tree with my hands folded over my chest. The sun had set a while ago but there was still a good two hours until mum came home. It was odd knowing that she was so okay with Sherlock. Well, not really, he was overly kind to her… But that was just fake him. If she knew the real him, if he deduced her, I don't even want to know. He'd probably talk about my LOVELY father and make her cry and then I'd have to punch him which I wanted to avoid doing. I've lost a lot of friends that way. For some reason a tiny thing in the back of my head really didn't want to lose Sherlock, but he logical side of me laughed and ignored it. After all, I probably really was an experiment.

Still, I hope his dad was better than mine. My father. Just thinking about him makes me want to scream. Acknowledging he was responsible for giving me and my sister some of our DNA was even worse, but mum always said there was no point denying the truth.

Pulling my mind from the things that get me so uptight, I watched as the leaves fell and something inside of me convinced me to start counting the leaves as they floated so gracefully down to the ground. I used to do that a lot as a kid when Harry wouldn't leave me alone. Because of our dad, I didn't ever want to hit her; I thought she'd had enough of that. So if I couldn't stop him from hitting her, I could stop myself. I'd come out here, climb the tree, and count the leaves aloud until I calmed down.

Let's just say I once got to 221 before I felt I'd be able to look at her and not try to beat her senseless.

I contemplated climbing up the tree, but I felt the branches had had enough of me wearing them down, so I stayed where I was, "One… two, three… four… five…"

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock questioned from the door frame.

I sat up quickly as Sherlock caught me falling into old habit, for some reason it was extremely embarrassing. "W-w-well I-I just, I m-mean," I took a deep breath and silently cursed at my tongue for not letting words come out smoother. "Well I wasn't reciting the alphabet, Sherlock," I covered up my embarrassment with sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes, "I understand you were counting, but why?" He closed the door behind him and walked over to me.

I shrugged as he looked me up and down. _Oh great, deducing._

After a few seconds he spoke, "Sentimental. Seems you're nostalgic about something. Probably something you did as a kid involving Harry, but you're embarrassed by it. So Harry used to annoy you enough but instead of paying her back, you would come out here and count the leaves. Normally I would say that would mean you were annoyed, but you seemed to be in a rather good mood earlier, so you were just compelled to do that. Why?"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes as I stood up, "I don't know I just like to sometimes, most of the time it was because of Harry, but I just like to every once and a while." I really did, as I got older and harry and I spent less time annoying each other, I still did that every once and a while, but I tried not to let it become habit.

"Interesting," he hummed slightly to himself as we walked back towards the house.

"So did you figure it out?" I knew he would understand what I was talking about.

"Not yet, but I was getting bored considering I have zero care about where he went."

"What about your mum and brother? Shouldn't you try to figure it out for them?"

He sighed in defeat, "Fine."

"Good, now I'm going to make some food, and you're going to eat some."

He raised both of his eyebrows, "Now am I?"

Laughing, I nodded, "Yes, because with your family distracted and a 'case' this hard for you to solve, I highly doubt you'll eat unless I make you."

I walked to the kitchen and could only hear Sherlock groan for a second before accepting that he had to eat, even if only a little. I grinned and began to just heat up the leftovers my mum left me. There was enough to feed five people, so two wouldn't be a problem, especially considering Sherlock's lack of eating.

Leaning against the counter while I waited for the food, I opted to think. For a second I tried to concentrate on the problem going on with the Holmes family, but I quickly realized I knew virtually nothing that would be helpful in the least. My mind started to wander to what I was committing to in under a week, but I yanked it back quickly.

_No. I am going. That was one thing my _**_father_**_ wasn't able to do. He couldn't succeed in the military. I need to beat him. I need to win. The way he treated me and Harry was wrong, I need to prove that I'm better then him. How dare he-_

I hadn't realized I had been clenching my fists so tightly or shaking so badly until the beeping went off to tell me the food was ready. I could feel my blood boiling and the heat was overwhelming, so I walked to the sink and slashed cool water on my face, cooling slightly.

I mumbled to myself, my voice only loud enough for me to hear, "Calm down, it's fine, calm down, he's dead." I looked up out the window and counted the leaves in a voice just as quiet, "One… two… three four… five six seven… eight… nine… ten…"

"Again?" My eyes widened and I froze as he spoke. _When did he come in here? _"What are you so angry at? You're just warming up leftovers."

"How long have you been there?" My voice shook, my anger having not fully dissipated, it was hard to sound calm but I tried. There was no way I could turn around. He would know. Not like he didn't already know. The bastard.

"I had really hoped that my deduction had been wrong, and that's new for me." He mumbled it with slight reluctance in his voice, as if admitting that hurt his pride somehow.

I didn't understand, "What deduction?" Out of curiosity I turned around to which his eyes automatically scanned me. _Of course, always deducing. Always._

"He couldn't have been that bad, you turned out alright," I didn't realize that coming from Sherlock that was fairly close to a compliment because my blood was boiling again. _That's none of his business. How could he possibly-_

Sherlock began to list his deduction reasoning, "You're overprotective of your sister, even though she's older. You flinch if anyone raises their hand even though it's just a common gesture." _Shut up._ "You're mother has a tan from a ring but doesn't adorn one in any form." _Shut up._ "There is absolutely no picture of your father anywhere in the house, most people at least have one, but you seem to have zero and not care about that at all." _Shut up._ "Not to mention most kids don't climb trees to calm down when they're mad at their older siblings because hitting them in response wouldn't normally matter, but because of your father," _Sherlock, before I hit you please just,_ "hitting your sister in anger would just make things worse." _SHUT UP._ "He has something to do with the reason you're moving. Also-"

I cut him off loudly, "Shut UP Sherlock!" I was trembling, holding back the urge to punch him. _I don't want to talk about this. Just shut it. Please._

He blinked at me, shocked for a second before speaking, "You were abused."

"Sherlock," I clenched my fists and ground my teeth, "Shut the hell up or get your ass out of my house."

"Don't most people prefer to talk about things like this? Since you so obviously haven't before," He stared at me with his stoic face and I just glared.

"No. Now get out," I said the words as coldly as I could manage but he remained standing there staring at me. "What are you looking at?! Get out of my damn house before I make you get out!" My anger was besting me and I knew if anyone could tell it would be Sherlock, but he didn't say anything or even move a muscle.

I waited for a couple more seconds before I realized he really did not plan on moving, so I did the one thing I had wanted to do since he walked into the kitchen. I punched him in the face. Hard. He must have been expecting it though, because he only stumbled back in response, normally people fell. He looked at me and some small part of me was relieved that even if I did hit him, I didn't hit his nose or mouth or eye or something that would leave any permanent damage or deformation, I don't know why that part of me was so glad about that but I just ignored it, too angry to care.

"Now, GET THE HELL OUT!" I spun him around and shoved him out the door, slamming it behind him.

I locked the door quickly even though I knew he could get back in if he wanted. Stomping over to a couch I dropped down, only to get back up and pace. The asshole. He knew I would get upset yet he insisted on bring up the topic anyway! My father was the worst man I have ever met and if my mum would allow it, I wouldn't even call him a man, nor my father. He wasn't even dead. For God's sake I kicked him out when I turned 15 because I was done. He had raised me to be strong, to be a man and to never let physical things get to me. That was what even started his craze!

He was never able to join the military like his family wanted, not like they forced it on him, but it had been sort of a tradition among the Watson's. He had a low pain tolerance and brittle bones so he never could, so when he had me he began to make sure that I wouldn't even flinch at pain. Obviously I would never be able to do that, which was outside human capability, but he tried to get me as close to that as he could. Since I was a little kid he would hit me, not just slapping but punches, grown man punches. Plus the kicks and throwing things at me, but there was some logical part in him as it was always in a place I could hide, that way, no matter how badly it bruised, how deep the cut, or anything like that, I could pretend nothing was wrong.

My mum began to notice something was wrong though; Harry never got those bad of cuts as a kid, or those bad of bruises, so something was off. When she confronted him, he simply beat her into silence. He did the same to Harry when he found her comforting a crying 6 year old me. I wasn't allowed to cry. I tried to calm down, but that man hurt my mother and my sister, just for trying to protect me. No more. No more. I won't be protected. I will do what he couldn't and bring honor back to the Watson name.

I gasped as I came back to reality, "SHIT!" I yelled. I had punched a hole in the wall. Again. _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, how the hell do I fix this?_

Then I realized something else. I just punched Sherlock in the face and kicked him out. I sat against the wall under the hole I made as I got nervous. I don't get why I care so much, but I don't think he'll be coming back after that. I wouldn't. Not like it mattered. I was leaving in 5 days. I looked at my watch, another hour before mum comes home. After all those memories resurfacing and the idea that I officially had no friends made my chest ache. Every time I refused to let myself cry. Every hit to Harry and Mum. The last few months of my friends saying goodbye. Sarah leaving me. Harry getting even further into alcohol. Punching Sherlock in the face.

I pulled my knees to my chest and started to cry. Shamelessly cry into my knees. No one would be here for at least thirty minutes. As long as no one shows up-

And that was when the door opened.

** Alright, how was it? I'm getting to the good stuff woo! Anyway please please please please review. I actually have good reasoning! I need to know if I'm actually doing a good job at this story or if I should just stop trying, it's good to have feedback. Anyway, have a good day. SEASON THREE SOON!**


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